


Wildling

by saltedearthsch



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Drama, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedearthsch/pseuds/saltedearthsch
Summary: princess sumire oshiga never expected her freedom would be the price of ending a years-long war ravaging her kingdom.
Relationships: Sidurgu Orl & Warrior of Light, Sidurgu Orl/Original Character(s), Sidurgu Orl/Warrior of Light
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> this idea came to me randomly and i'm working on it really slowly so please bear with me! 
> 
> this work features a main paring between my warrior of light, sumire oshiga, and the dark knight mentor sidurgu orl. if you want to be more familiar with them, you can check out my fic series "The Raven and The Nightengale!"

The silence in the room was absolutely stifling.

Truthfully, Sumire had no idea why her presence was even requested for this meeting. Should these negotiations not be conducted between her father and the two monsters seated across from them? She held no sway, no knowledge, that would help with this situation whatsoever.

Both the barbarians were massive in the simpler woods of the meeting room’s furniture. Even seated they dwarfed her father, the King, who sat next to her. Wreathed in muscle and fur, they made for an imposing picture that had Sumire wishing it had been her sisters who were summoned for this instead. 

“They have other duties. Please, Sumire, I need your clear head for this.”

She was not even in line for the throne - not really. It was her eldest sister who held the title of Crown Princess, and her sister after that to whom the title would fall should the worst come to pass. Sumire was third, and that meant… nothing. She was nothing, in the picture of royal succession. So why on earth was she here?

By and large she tuned out most of their negotiations. Back and forths on land, livestock, gold - down the list of terms their enemies had brought they went, crossing some off easily and lending others more discussion. Truthfully, she was surprised that there was any sort of civil discussion being had. She had more expected them to simply present a list of demands and sit in silent intimidation until their side gave in.

“We are in agreement then?” Sumire glanced sideways at her father, whose words rang firm in the silence, but she could see his hands shaking beneath the table. If this savage king and his comrade would agree to their terms, a near decade of war could at last be ceased. This negotiation was a critical tipping point for their kingdom to finally have peace again.

The enemy king had introduced himself as Lord Oronir. Dark and imposing, he certainly fit the image, and yet he held the easy joviality born of utter confidence. This meeting and her people were a joke to them - that much was easily guessed from the numbers constantly flooding in from the fields. More soldiers than barbarians had lost their lives in this fight so far, and would continue to do so if something was not done. Truly his people did not need these peace talks, but were humoring them all the same.

His companion, as yet unnamed, was the opposite. Stoic, silent, and pale as a shade, Sumire wondered if he was not brought along for the additional intimidation alone. An aura of cold winter frost rolled off him into the room, daring any and all to challenge the terms they had brought to the table. Yet she had no doubt of the true danger that lay beneath his oddly-hued skin. With a jolt she realized he was staring at her in turn, aqua eyes catching her amber ones and he smirked. A chill ran down her spine. It was not the first time she’d noticed his gaze fall to her.

“If I may, Lord Oronir.” Sumire flinched as he spoke, low and serious, but there was a glint in his eye now as he continued to stare at her. She could have sworn that he had done little else since entering the room. 

The king in question gave him a curious glance. “You would yet add to our terms?”

“I want her.” Murmurs rippled from the advisors in the room as their eyes fell on her. Sumire glanced about in wonder, before realizing who he spoke of.

“Me?” Next to her, her father inhaled sharply.

“Lord Oronir, you already ask a great deal of our kingdom in exchange for peace. Surely you can not be suggesting this as well.” His voice was terse, but the fear in his eyes was real, and Sumire felt the chill from before seeping into her body. Would he truly turn her over to these monsters so easily?

“Lord Orl has served faithfully for many years as one of my best generals,” Lord Oronir mused, golden eyes raking over Sumire and then flicking back to the king. “I would suggest you do as he asks, if you truly seek peace.” 

“She is one of my three precious daughters. They are all I have after we lost our Queen. I beg of you to reconsider.” 

Silence. The chill spread to Sumire’s stomach, curdling and threatening to make her sick.

White knuckles gripped the table’s edge. “May I have a moment with my daughter to discuss your request, my Lords?” With a nod, the two stood from the table, escorted by a small retinue, leaving the King and the Princess.

“Father you cannot seriously be considering this!” She hissed, desperate. With their enemy out of sight, he sighed and she watched the weary lines set into his face again, his body crumpling and deflating before her eyes.

“It is for the good of our people, Sumire.” 

“I’ll run away,” she huffed.

“You’d condemn them to suffer further tragedy.”

“I’ll kill myself!”

“ _ Sumire!”  _

“I’m serious, Father! I would rather die than be handed over to those creatures like some sort of prize! I may not be your heir, but am I still not your daughter, as you said?” 

He had not looked at her once and he kept his eyes on the carved wood, tracing the grains as he said quietly, “I am your Father, and you are my daughter.” When he finally looked at her, there were tears threatening to fall and sorrow in his eyes. “But I am also their King. I must do what I can to protect them. Whatever it takes, to end this war.”

She had nothing to say to that.

* * *

Teeth ground so hard that she was certain they would be dust before they even left the city as Sumire watched Lord Oronir’s men rifle through her things. When they had said she would be allowed to bring a few items, this was not what she had imagined.

“Is this really necessary?” Lifting her wrists, she grimaced at the intricate rope knotted around them. On her right, Lord Oronir chuckled, low and rumbling like thunder.

“We must be sure you don’t run away,” he answered.

“And them?” She thrust her chin at the louts tossing a set of her slippers into the basket they’d allotted her. 

“If we let you pack, you may try to sneak something in.” 

“That’s absurd. I’m a Princess, not a soldier,” she snapped. Lord Orl shrugged.

“In our culture, women fight as well as men.”

“In  _ our  _ culture,” she mirrored, “women do not.” 

“That does not make you any less dangerous,” he reasoned. She rolled her eyes but said no more. It was clearly a losing battle.  


When the basket had its fill of the meager portion of her belongings it could hold, they dragged her, and it, out of the rooms she had called home. With every step through the familiar halls and every glimpse of familiar decor, Sumire’s pulse picked up in her throat. This was really happening. She was being sent away, another pack animal peace offering to placate the savage neighbors who had terrorized their lands. Her heart frosted over with bitter resentment as they finally reached the palace gates. Several horses and carts waited, and she watched, a swirling tempest of emotion, as they loaded her things and theirs. A shadow fell over her and she flinched in surprise.  


"Do you wish to walk?" Lord Orl was holding his hand out to her.

"Hard to say when I do not know our route," she quipped. She swore she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, but then she was distracted as he took her still-bound hands in his. A slim knife appeared in his hand, and he made swift work of the knots. Rubbing her wrists, she followed him to one of the horses. He nigh on leapt onto the beast's back, looking almost graceful, then offered his hand down to her. She backed away. "Absolutely not!" 

He sighed. "Do not be difficult." Every instinct in her wanted to fight, snap, snarl. But the rest of her, which had with sorrow accepted her fate, knew it was pointless. And so she placed her palm in his, and was proud when she only let out a small shriek as he pulled her up and positioned her in front of him. She made certain to have as little physical contact with him as possible, even with the small amount of space left between them.

The King (as she refused to call him Father again) appeared then with several members of the court and council. They watched her with varying degrees of sadness. She spared her father only a passing glance of cold anger, then tilted her chin to the sky as he gave the signal to raise the gates.

“Sumire,” she thought she heard him say. “I hope one day you will forgive me.”

“Never.”

And with a loud cry, Lord Oronir and his men whisked her through the gate and down the road that would lead them to the border. She refused to look back and watch her home grow ever smaller behind her.


	2. To Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they journey to reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise this is one of the last kind of set-up chapters before we start getting to the good stuff! i tried to sprinkle in some fun things for you too. ;3

Sumire was no stranger to riding, having been raised from the time she was young to be accustomed to horseback. Even so, it had been quite a while since she had spent an entire day riding, most trips usually allowing the royal family to remain in a carriage instead. The long journey from the capitol to where they made camp had made her back and legs sore, and she found herself more than willing to take up in a tent or even just a bedroll if it meant being back on solid ground.

She leaned against a tree in the clearing they’d decided upon, a fair distance into the forest and away from the road to avoid unnecessary, potentially dangerous, attention from any other travelers. From Sumire’s memory she recalled that they were at least an hour outside of any towns, so they ought to be safe, but King Oronir seemed to think the risk was not worth it. What supplies they had brought with them for the journey were pulled from the carts and bags, and the small retinue of guards that had been accompanying them began to set up. Feeling listless, she simply watched, until Lord Orl approached her.

“Are you hungry?” In the twilight it was hard to discern his shadowy figure from the landscape, save for his eyes as they bored down at her. 

Sumire looked away and shrugged. He sighed.

“I understand you may not be happy with this situation,” he began, and her eyes were hard amber as she whipped her head back to glare at him.

“You understand nothing,” she snarled, finding her voice now that she was away from the palace with no face to save and not a thing else left to lose. “You bought me like meat at a market and paraded me away from my home as nothing more than a prize! You know _nothing_ about me save that you must at least find me pretty, which is not much of a compliment at all from the likes of you! ‘Unhappy’ does not even _begin_ to cover the depths of the loathing and hatred I feel for you!”

The warrior stared at her as she ranted, composed and stoic as ever, and it only stoked her ire further. It was entirely unsatisfying to rage against a stone wall - he could at least do her the decency of being mildly insulted by her barbs and thorns, couldn’t he? But the words that had exploded from her in an instant slipped from her just as quickly, and she stood silently, tiny and fuming and glaring before him.

“Are you done singing, little bird?” He only smirked as she bristled further at the nickname. “Allow me to make something perfectly clear to you.” He reached out when she turned her face from him, grasping her chin to force her eyes back on him as he leaned inescapably close, willfully ignorant of the indignant noise that escaped her.

“You are **_mine_ **. Whether I won you or stole you, it matters not. You belong to me now, because your father said so, and because King Oronir said so. And though you may hate me and live the rest of your days in unhappiness, I take care of what is mine. So I will ask again - are you hungry?” 

Silence stretched between them as she worked her jaw from within his grip, debating her answer. Finally she managed to nod. “Yes.” 

His smile was surprisingly gentle, perhaps even relieved, though she grimaced as his fingers slid across her jaw to cup her cheek. “Thank you. I will get you something to eat. You may take whatever things you need to the tent.” And then he turned toward the small circle their camp had formed, calling to one of the soldiers.

“‘ _The’_ tent?” She questioned belatedly to his back, but received no reply.

It turned out dinner consisted of dense bread, cheese, and nuts. At least that was what Lord Orl brought to her, after she had refused to sit with him and the others around the fire, still fuming from their earlier interaction. Though he was clearly irked by her insistence on defiance, he let her be, returning to where the others laughed and shouted around the flame. A couple of the soldiers had managed to catch a few small animals while gathering the wood, and though she had been offered this as well, having to smell the creatures being prepared had left her less than willing.

She took this time to observe her captors, for she refused to think of them any other way. To anyone else they probably seemed a normal group of travelers or soldiers, laughing and drinking as they camped for the night while on their journey. Lord Orl was ever the odd man out with his barely affected expression, while Oronir and his warriors were the picture of joviality. 

_And why wouldn’t they be?_ she reflected grimly. They had won, getting everything they wanted and more out of the negotiations, while her people had made it out with only the promise of no further lives lost.

And yet again her eyes were drawing to the paler man among their number, thoughts swimming with questions that she had dwelt on far too long already during the day’s travel. Why had he chosen _her_? What did he want with her? If she continued to refuse him would he kill her? Could she even slightly trust him? Like an endless whirlpool they swirled about in her mind, and she found that the food she’d been picking at tasted of nothing.

A shadow crossed her vision, blocking her view of the rest of the camp, and she squinted into the darkness. She was able to make out Lord Orl’s silhouette with the backlight of the fire to illuminate him, and folded her hands, rearranging her expression into something between disgust and neutrality.

“What is it?” 

“The others will keep watch through the night. If you are tired, you should sleep soon. We will be moving on come sunrise.” Once more she contemplated some small, petty sign that she was unhappy with him, but now that he had said the words, she could feel weariness pulling at her being, as if it were trying to drag her into the earth. So without a word she reached up and accepted the hand he held out to her, almost as startled by the ease with which he pulled her to her feet as she had been at the palace gates that morning.

He led her to a tent a few paces from the fire with its back to the forest and entrance facing the path back to the road. When he only had to duck slightly to enter, Sumire realized the tent must be small to him, though it seemed large and spacious to her. Inside, aside from the items she had selected earlier for travel tomorrow, there were only a few items: a large bedroll, a few weapons, and what she assumed to be another set of his clothing. She glanced hesitantly about as he sat on the bedroll and laid back with a groan. Sumire stayed frozen at the entrance and when after some time she hadn’t moved, he cracked one eye to stare at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Are… Do I… Is there only the one?” Her voice sounded small to her own ears within the cloth walls, the noise of the others and the forest outside muffled. The oppressive intimacy of their surroundings seemed to have erased all her earlier bravado. Against her will, she could feel her cheeks heat as Lord Orl chuckled, clearly not missing her implication. He sat up, an amused smirk still on his face as he regarded her.

“We are only sleeping tonight, little bird.” She was not blind to the way he phrased his answer.

“Must I share a bed with you already?” 

_Still so timid,_ she cursed herself. But it could not be helped. She was still young compared to her sisters, inexperienced in the ways of men and the world, but she knew what this arrangement was meant to imply. She had guessed from the beginning that his intentions might be thus, yet now that she was faced with it so directly the notion terrified her more than Lord Orl himself.

“Would you rather sleep outside in the woods?” His voice was tinged with that same mirth and it made her flush darker, now both embarrassed and unsure.

“Of course not!”

He patted the space next to him on the bedroll. His voice was gentler now as he said, “Then come sit, little bird.”

One heartbeat, two, three, she hesitated. If she took this step, if she shared his bed tonight, in any fashion, she was admitting defeat. From this moment she would no longer be Princess Sumire Oshiga of Doma, the girl she had known the last twenty-two years. And she was terrified of who that new girl born in her place would be. 

Lord Orl’s smile too was gentle as she crossed the tent and sat down before him. Eyes fixed on her skirts, she avoided looking at him, cheeks still stained red. Her breathing hitched and then came stuttering out as his fingers slid beneath her chin, tilting her face to his. This touch was far softer than his grip on her during his lecture outside, and it was this surprise that also widened her eyes as they stared into his.

“I promise you, I will not touch you or do a single thing you do not ask for tonight. You may sleep here beside me knowing that all I will do is keep you safe until the sun rises. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.” He nodded, and turned away, leaving Sumire to clutch at her heart where it raced in her chest. _Damn you,_ she grumbled to it. She told herself it was fear and not just nerves that had made it begin speeding so. 

She glanced up when it had calmed enough to breathe normally and looked away again so fast she nearly felt dizzy from whiplash.

“What are you doing!” 

His eyes met hers over his shoulder, the fur he had kept on all day now missing, leaving his back and shoulders bare to her. “Preparing to sleep.” He eyed her, still fully clothed. “Do you intend to sleep in that?” Without thinking, her arms crossed her chest, clutching at her dress.

“I-I don’t--”

“I told you I will not do anything untoward. Sleep however you’ll be most comfortable.” For several long moments she sat there as he made his preparations, until at last she gave in and reached for the buttons on the front of her dress. She shimmied out of it until she was standing in only her chemise and linens, and tossed it violently toward the wall. When he turned to look at the sound, she made a distressed noise of her own and he laughed, looking away again.

Laying on her side, Sumire squeezed her eyes shut, keeping her back to him as Lord Orl settled in beside her. Silence reigned aside from the muffled noises of the rest of their party preparing to sleep or take up guard shifts. Her mind buzzed, keeping her awake though she wished she could sleep simply to get through this night if nothing else. When she thought he was asleep, she allowed herself to speak only four words into the still air.

“Thank you, Lord Orl.” She could not say for sure which of the scant few things she was thanking him for; for not defiling her on the spot, for not leaving her to the forests, for being kind to her despite whatever his intentions might be. Perhaps all of these things. Perhaps she was just being polite, executing her court-taught etiquette so well her nursemaid would’ve cried. Regardless, she had said her piece, and now she could sleep easy and go back to being angry and beguiled in the morning.

“Sidurgu.” She almost thought she misheard him, but the timbre of his voice, though it was addled by sleep, was unmistakable. 

“What?” Dammit, she was supposed to remain aloof.

“My name is Sidurgu. Stop calling me ‘Lord Orl.’ That is a title your nobles made up.” A pause. “Or Sid. Magnai calls me that as well.” She mulled this over for a moment.

“Alright,” she whispered finally.

He grunted, and then the silence returned and Sumire was finally lulled to sleep. 

* * *

The town they arrive in the next morning is far more impressive than Sumire expected. Truthfully she had imagined something more like their camp, perhaps a slightly more elaborate huddle of tents, but instead it is an off-kilter echo of her own home. Simpler stone buildings bunched together along packed dirt streets; off the roofs and on the walls of several flew banners of different colors; people milled about chatting and conducting business and any manner of other things one would expect of a town.

“The market district,” Sidurgu explained when he saw her glancing curiously about in front of him. “This town has become a critical stop for many merchants and traders, so it was converted into a proper settlement. We call it Reunion, for how it brings the many folk of our land together.” Sumire huffed and stared at Magnai’s back instead, as if trying to hide her blatant interest in her surroundings. When she wasn’t looking, he smiled to himself at her stubbornness.

Though those who stood in their path respectfully stepped aside, and many greeted Magnai with enthusiasm, his arrival was not lauded as it would have been in her own city. Theirs was a quiet acknowledgement, a welcome belonging more to a man once more among his peers than his subjects. And yet something about the lack of fanfare and drama was almost more comfortable than stiff formality. Sumire scolded herself a second later for the thought.

Their destination, it seemed, was a much larger building on the opposite side of the town. Despite its size, it was not much more ornate than any of the others, and was made of the same stone. The same banners she had seen in Magnai’s camp hung on its walls as well, the only thing giving it much distinction aside from the warriors stationed outside keeping a lazy eye on the townsfolk milling about. One of them, a young man who had to be about her age, bowed as they arrived at the entrance. He exchanged a few words that Sumire could not overhear, and she watched the odd purple of his gaze flick in her direction. She flinched at the scrutiny and unconsciously leaned further into Sid, who said nothing but placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, then,” Magnai called, sliding off his horse with ease. Behind her, Sid did the same and then offered his hand to her. She scoffed.

“I can dismount myself,” Sumire snapped and he just laughed before turning to follow Magnai inside. Not wanting to be left behind in this strange city, she slipped hurriedly to the ground, grunting in annoyance when the impact nearly brought her knees buckling. Perhaps it had been a bit further down than she expected.

The inside of the fortress, as she assumed the building to be, was about what she had imagined: cold stone walls, sparse decor, and simple furnishings made up the rooms they passed. What staff darted about bowed courteously but said nothing, leaving the path open to them as they ascended from the entry level to another corridor on the next floor. Magnai chattered quietly with the guard who had followed them inside as he led the way to a large door, this one carved with a series of symbols she did not recognize or understand. It was the most ornate thing she had seen since they arrived. Without missing a beat, Magnai pushed it aside and walked into the room beyond.

He had led them to a war room, Sumire realized as she took in the space. A large table, with documents and maps scattered about, chairs placed on all sides to allow for a council of any size. Shelves stuffed with books and wall-mounted weapons racks circled the walls. And standing at the table, talking to a few other people Sumire of course did not recognize, was a woman. 

She was not much taller than Sumire, standing proud and straight as she finished speaking and sent her companion out another door at the end of the room. When they entered, her sharp gaze turned on them, and the deep color of her skin made the bright blue of her eyes stand out as they looked over each of them. There was no mistaking the sharp wariness of a soldier, which only lent to her intimidating appearance, wrapped as she was in similar fur and armor to Sidurgu and Magnai. Her evaluation stopped when it reached Sumire, and she froze.

“Sadu!” Magnai boomed, arms open as wide as the smile on his face as he walked toward her. “We have returned!”

“I see that,” she hissed through her teeth, eyes never leaving Sumire. “But what’s this? Did you get a _doll_ as part of your negotiations?”

“‘A doll?’” She bristled, and ignored the warning sound from Sidurgu.

“She has come with us from Doma,” Magnai began, but he didn’t get to finish before Sadu had stormed up to him and jabbed him in the chest, icy fury in her eyes.

“You were sent to negotiate with them, and you brought back a woman?” Her voice was dangerous now, and even Magnai was beginning to look nervous. 

“Sadu, wait--”

“This soft, spineless _LITTLE GIRL?_ ” She was yelling now. “She probably can’t even hold a sword!”

“She won’t need to,” Magnai interjected. “She’s not a warrior, she’s--”

“MAGNAI ORONIR, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” And she reached for a short sword strapped across her lower back, tugging at the hilt and holding it to Magnai’s neck. Sumire gasped and their guard companion stiffened, but Sidurgu just sighed. She glanced at him.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” She whispered, but he shook his head.

“Just wait.”

Sure enough, though Sadu continued to rant for several moments about Magnai being “a lascivious, irresponsible, lecher of a king,” she eventually seemed to lose steam. Once the blade had dropped from his throat to her side, Magnai sighed with relief, and gently tugged her hand fisted in his wrap free, patting it gently. Sadu continued to glare at him, but finally let him speak.

“The girl is not here because of me, Sadu. Yes, she was given to us as part of the negotiation, but not because _I_ asked for her.” Confusion creased the warrior woman’s brow now.

“What?” Magnai stared at her pointedly, and slowly Sadu’s eyes shifted back to where Sidurgu and Sumire stood. _“No.”_

Magnai nodded. “Yes.” And suddenly Sadu was laughing. It was more of a cackle, really, and though it was clearly born of amusement, it still made Sumire slightly uncomfortable somehow. Sadu’s eyes rested on her again, though without the same hatred they’d held earlier. At least, not as much of it.

“You, girl.” Sadu stood before Sumire now. “Are you not Magnai’s new pet?”

Sumire sneered. “I would sooner leave myself to the wolves than be that man’s woman,” she snapped. Sadu’s eyes hardened again, and she pulled Sumire in by the collar of her dress.

“You think you’re too good for our king, do you?” 

Sid growled. “Sadu, _enough._ ” Scoffing, the woman let Sumire go, and she stumbled back, eyeing Sadu nervously.

“You need to teach your woman some respect, Sid.”

“And you need to watch your legs. You might break them with all the conclusions you jump to.” Surprising herself, Sumire giggled. Sadu hissed, but moved back to the table in the center of the room.

“Sit down, all of you.” She was glaring at Magnai again, who did not look the least bit apologetic as he took his seat at the head of the table. “It sounds like we have much to discuss.”


	3. Noyon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sumire learns a bit more about the man who bought her.

“At least you managed to convince them of our demands.” Sadu sighed and leaned back in her chair. It seemed she had finally settled down from her earlier rage, though Sumire felt no confidence that she wouldn’t lose her temper again. Even Magnai seemed wary as he nodded.

“Most of the supplies are already being put into storage. We need only pull our forces back from their posts and this whole ordeal can be done with.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Sidurgu remarked, rolling his eyes. The king shrugged.

“While I do enjoy combat, I do not enjoy war, Sid. This conflict has been trying for both sides, and it is past time the warriors that have fought in it be returned to their families.”

“Your side seemed just fine to me,” Sumire bit, unable to help herself. She froze, expecting a retaliation for her harsh words, but they just looked at her. 

“How much do you know of the Azim, little bird?” Sidurgu’s voice was calm, his face as unaffected as ever as he regarded her

She offered an embarrassed shrug. “Very little, truthfully. We were too busy trying to figure out how to protect our armies from you to study your culture.”

“We Azim are hardy warriors, it is true, and most any of those with some training could probably best a Doman soldier with brute force alone. But we are not indestructible. There were many times where your forces did win against our own, and the losses were felt deeply. We may be strong, but we are not nearly as many in number. Even we know when a retreat must be made.” 

“Yet your people also use violence to settle disagreements. How does that make sense?” 

Magnai laughed. “Sometimes a man is so bull-headed that he must be made to see sense by means of violence.”

“Spoken from true experience,” Sadu drawled. Magnai cast a miffed glare in her direction, but she cut off protest to add, “He has started the most fights of any man I know.”

“Aside from Sid,” Magnai argued, gesturing to the quiet man. Sidurgu just made a face, and Sadu saved him by moving the conversation.

“I will begin to make arrangements to send word to any who still yet fight. They should have stood down already, but we will need an official declaration that the war is ended for them to return.” She glanced at Sidurgu. “I suppose you will stay to make your preparations for the journey home?” He nodded.

“You know I do not like to be here longer than necessary.”

“Make sure you make the proper arrangements,” Magnai added. “I can’t imagine your place will be… welcoming to a woman as it is. Even one of our people.” Sidurgu rolled his eyes at the other man’s smirk.

“I sent word to Cirina before we left the Doman capital.”

“Excellent!” He looked equally between Sadu and Sidurgu, and Sumire got the distinct impression that he was waiting for their approval. She recalled Magnai’s words in the negotiation about Sidurgu being highly trusted, but it had not struck her as anything more than flowery words until this moment. They both nodded. “Once we have confirmation the word has gone out, and everything is secured, I will be leaving Reunion as well. Koda!”

They all stood, and Sumire hurried to follow suit. Magnai headed for the door first, the guard that had followed them in (Koda, she assumed) shadowing his steps as they left the room. She was rushing to follow Sid when Sadu shoved past her, the woman knocking her roughly to the side. All she offered as apology was a disinterested glare, and then she too was gone. Sidurgu gave Sumire a sympathetic glance but said nothing else.

“Come. There is still much to be done before we leave.” And he did not look back as she rushed after him, still nursing her bruised shoulder.

* * *

“Where will you be taking me now, exactly?” Sumire frowned when Sidurgu still did not respond. Ever since she had caught up with him in the hall, he had not said a word, though she had tried several times to engage him. She could not discern if it was determination in his task or determination to ignore her that fueled him, but it frustrated her nonetheless. If he was to be the only person she could rely on here, she wanted to make the best of it at least.

They had returned to the market district they entered through, Sumire sticking close to him as they made their way through the scattered crowds. She could not shake the distinct feeling that people were staring at her, and not just when they bumped into each other. The idea made her skin crawl and forced her close to him as she could get. 

Finally he paused in front of a stall that seemed to carry assorted food, and after selecting two steaming pastries he handed one to her.

“It’s not going to bite you, little bird,” he remarked after she simply stared at it for several moments, failing to conceal his booming laughter. Making a face, she took a bite and was surprised to find it was filled with meat. “You have not eaten since we left camp this morning. I thought you’d like to eat while we shop.”

Swallowing her mouthful, she gazed at him curiously. “Shop? For what? It’s not as if I have the coin.” She tried to ignore the small spark of gratitude at the knowledge he was looking out for her.  _ He’s just doing what he ought to. I’m no good to him dead from starvation. _

“Supplies, mostly. The journey from Reunion will be longer than the journey in, and we will need our own.”

“You still have not said where we’re going.”

“I thought it was obvious. We’re going home.”

Sumire made a noise of frustration. “And where is that for you, exactly?” Sid tugged on her arm as a man with a cart approached, pulling her with him against the wall of a building. She stumbled slightly at the force, unsteady steps carrying her straight into him. At least she hadn’t gotten run over.

“Several dozen malms to the northwest, past the Dawn Throne and west still of Mol Iloh. Between the plains and the mountains of our land.” He had begun to lead her down the streets again, and Sumire realized he was keeping pace with her now. “Magnai insisted that a war lord should have a proper fortress and not just a camp. And then he gave me a whole village.” Sidurgu sounded disgruntled, as if the whole concept made him uncomfortable, and she couldn’t help laughing. An Azim man yelped as Sumire stopped still in the street as the implied revelation of his words finally struck her.

“So you  _ are  _ a lord!” Her brow furrowed. “You said that was a title only Domans used.”

“I am not a lord in the sense that you mean it,” he said, as if it should make perfect sense. She just looked confused as she fell into step with him again.

“We do not use the same system of titles and ranks that you do, little bird,” Sidurgu explained. “So though I may be of equal rank to one of your high-standing nobles, the people here do not refer to me as such.” 

“What do they call you then?”

He shrugged, and Sumire was surprised to note that he again looked somewhat uncomfortable. Was he so at odds with his own standing? “Only those who directly serve me are  _ required _ to use titles. So long as others show the appropriate respect, it matters not.” He glanced at her. “You are not required.”

“What-” Before the next question could leave her mouth, Sidurgu began laughing and she stopped.

“I thought you were not interested in the culture of your enemy, little bird!”

Sumire huffed. “Is it not wise to learn everything you can about your captors?” The mirth drained from his expression.

“I suppose it is.” They came to a halt outside a new building, its walls hanging with a variety of patterned cloth and a few hanging garments. A tailor or weaver, she guessed. He pulled Sumire inside, and the interior confirmed her suspicions. Fabrics and garments that were strewn about the interior, many decorated in patterns she was beginning to recognize as common among the Azim. A woman stood in one corner and turned to face them, bowing as they entered.

“Welcome! Are you looking for fabrics or garments?” Sumire, unable to understand what she said beyond the words of a basic greeting, moved instead to ogle the myriad of colors and textures. Sidurgu offered a bow of his own and approached the woman.

“A few sets of clothing for women.” Both of them glanced at Sumire, who still wore the Doman attire she had brought with her. “It does not need to be extravagant.”

“I’ll see what I have.” And she disappeared into another room.

“I brought plenty of clothes when we left,” Sumire argued, proving that she had in fact been listening to them, and must have inferred the nature of their exchange. Sidurgu shook his head.

“You stick out like a sore thumb in all that.” When Sumire gave him a withering look, he sighed. “These people do not yet know the war has ended. To them, you still wear the clothes of the enemy.”

“This is all I had!” She snapped.

“I know,” and she hated how placating he sounded. “That is why we will buy you something now. When she returns, pick whatever you want. I will wait outside.” Before she could object, he stepped back out the entry, and she was alone as the shop owner returned, carrying with her several bundles of fabric. She set them down and began laying out the items, seeming unbothered that Sidurgu had left.

“Journeyed far you have, miss?” Sumire turned, eyeing the woman warily. She did not seem to have nefarious intent with her question, so she nodded.

“I have. How could you tell?” The weaver gestured vaguely at her and glanced at a ring of embroidered silk around Sumire’s sleeve.

“Your clothing. Foreign.  _ Expensive _ .” Her shrewd gaze found the dusty hem of Sumire’s robe. “Well-worn _.” _ For some reason, the observation made her flush.

“We traveled with little delay to get here,” Sumire hedged. The woman offered a kindly smile, holding up a simple collared robe in deep green. “Start with this, shall we?”

As she was helping Sumire secure the ornate gold belt of the outfit around her waist, a thought occurred to her. “You speak Doman?”

The woman chuckled. “Very little.”

“I did not think Azim people knew Doman.”

“Did not think a Doman woman would set foot in our land.” She cinched the belt and patted Sumire’s hip, gently nudging her toward a mirror. “Look.”

When she faced the glass, Sumire froze. It was just a change of clothing, but it felt like her world had been upended. Rather than a mirror, she stood before a window looking in on a stranger. Until now she had not truly felt the reality of her situation - all the travel and activity had made it easy to to believe it was temporary, had kept her mind from dwelling too much. Yet here she stood, and there was no denying the reality of the days’ events. Features that she had spent twenty-two years staring at seemed to belong to someone else entirely. The wide amber eyes staring at her seemed foreign as the clothing on her body. With a wash of sorrow, she realized the truth: Princess Sumire Oshiga of Doma was dead - and she had no idea who had taken her place.

The weaver approached, with careful steps, and it was only when those worn hands grasped Sumire’s that she realized she had been shaking. A dry, strangled laugh scraped her throat and she turned her gaze to the floor instead. “A-apologies! The dress is lovely.”

“We call it  _ deel.  _ Comfortable, useful, but also pretty.” With a smile, she tapped the collar and sleeves, which were edged in a slightly more decorative fabric.

“Very pretty,” Sumire agreed quietly. At that moment, the door opened and revealed Sidurgu.

“Doesn’t she look lovely,  _ noyon _ ?” The weaver smiled, slipping into their native tongue as she looked at Sidurgu. The warrior’s eyes found Sumire, picking nervously at her sleeves.

“She does.” He stepped around them, looking over the other garments that had been laid out. Pointing at one, he turned back to the weaver. “We will take all of them, but do you have this in black?” The weaver offered a quick nod and a bow, then swept up all the items, including what Sumire had been wearing when they came in, and disappeared again.

Sidurgu approached her, still frozen before the mirror, and stood behind her. With him in the reflection, the cold sorrow settled into her bones. They looked like the number of other Azim folk she had seen in Reunion so far. One would have never guessed, aside perhaps from the paler tone of her skin, that she fared from enemy lands at all, let alone the Doman palace. For the first time, she truly looked as if she belonged to him.

And it made her sick. 

Her eyes dropped once more to the floor and swept quickly at them, praying he couldn’t see the tears that were welling up at their edges. It was only when he had left her to speak with the shopkeeper that she allowed herself a shaking breath to steady her nerves, shoving the tumult of emotions aside. There was no time to be sad. Not yet.

A hand appeared on her elbow, and once more she met the kind gaze of the weaver. She was smiling at Sumire, gentle and kind. “You are beautiful, indeed. May happiness follow you,  _ gonji. _ ” She turned to Sid, now smirking knowingly. “Do not lose hold of her,  _ noyon _ .” 

“I will.” Helpless in the face of the Azim tongue, Sumire stared at Sid, question in her face. He coughed, pointedly looking away from her.

“Wear this out. Your things are here.” The weaver said, in Doman this time. She handed the wrapped items to Sid, who bowed gratefully and led Sumire out of the shop. Bowing quickly, Sumire followed him.

“Is that your title?” She asked, as they walked. He raised an eyebrow as she attempted to repeat the word she had heard.

“A version of it, yes. My full title is  _ tumetu-iin noyan.  _ I was given it when Magnai decided I would become one of his generals.” Sumire hummed, hoping he didn’t notice she was using her curiosity as a distraction from the uncomfortable feelings that had plagued her before.

“What about…  _ gojin _ ?” She could have sworn he looked somewhat embarrassed.

“ _ Gonji.  _ It… She probably guessed the nature of our relationship. It is used for high-ranking women.” Sumire frowned.

“We don’t have a relationship,” she clipped. Sidurgu looked away, shoulders stiff.

“She was just trying to be respectful, little bird. Don’t worry about it for now.” He ignored the irritated noise she made to glance up at the descending sun. “It’s getting late, we should finish here quickly.” 

* * *

After several more stops to collect other supplies they had consumed on the journey to Reunion, Sidurgu led her to a small inn. She received significantly less stares now that she was swathed in slightly more appropriate attire (not that she had been painfully aware of it before). She was surprised at how comfortable the deel was, consisting of fewer, less constricting layers than the attire she was used to in Doma.

The innkeep accepted Sid’s coin, and gestured to a set of stairs across the common area. Nodding politely, she followed him up. Her steps slowed as they crossed the landing, however, hesitation gripping her. Would he have her stay in his room again? What if this was the night he tried something? The thought unsettled her, and she realized that already she had become far too comfortable in his presence. That was how he would get her, she guessed. Disarm her with his apparent humor and respect, then have his way whe--

“Princess?” The title startled her out of her thoughts more than the sound of his voice, eyes round as they met his. There was a hint of amusement around his lips, but he left it unvoiced and instead gestured to the door. “This will be your room for the night.”

“I don’t have to stay with you this time?”

“Do you wish to?”

“No!” Her defiance was so quick and vehement that red sprang to life across her cheeks, and she pushed past him to open the door. The room was simple - a bed, a chest, a basin, a table and chair should she choose to eat, write or otherwise preoccupy herself in here. The furnishings were rough wood, and the linens decorated with the patterns and colors that reminded her once again that she was among the Azim.

“I thought you would be more comfortable on your own. I will be in the room next door.” He moved past her to set the bundle of her new clothing on the chest, then turned back. “Your items are already here as well.” She noticed now the basket that she had brought from the palace and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. At least there was something familiar here amidst all the unknown. 

“We will leave early in the morning. Our destination will take us at least two days to reach this time. It is not far, but the terrain is harsh and better traversed only during the day.”

“Alright.” Her voice was quiet and she did not look at him.

He nodded, seeming relieved that this time she chose not to fight him. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.” Sumire waited until the door had swung shut behind him before racing across the room to grab the chair. Dragging it back, she shoved it beneath the handle. Shaking fingers tugged at the belt around her waist, then pulled the deel over her head. Both articles joined the pile on the chest as she dug through the basket of her items that had been delivered to the inn. Pulling out a familiar sleeping robe, she tugged it on, nearly tearing at a seam in her haste.

Last of all, she found a shawl she had asked the soldiers to slip into her belongings. Running her fingers across the familiar fabric, she cursed the tears that began to drip onto it. The garment was the last piece of her mother, at least it was the only one that had gone to her rather than Tsubaki or Tsunade. Clutching it to her chest, she inhaled, unsteady, searching for the long-faded scent of her mother’s peony perfume. It was nowhere to be found, of course, but she forced herself to imagine it as she had so many times since the Queen of Doma had gone.

Collapsing onto the bed, she buried her face in the shawl and wept until sleep overcame her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I couldn't find anything terribly specific about Steppe social hierarchy aside from the khagan/khatun stuff, I had to do a little research! The terms used in this chapter are explained below. Please note that their use in this story is a derivative of the original Mongol terms, and not necessarily a one to one!
> 
> * _noyon_ \- A term meaning “king of a state,” used for land-holding individuals under the Mongol Empire. Essentially nobility among the Azim.  
> * _tumetu-iin noyan_ \- A commander of a military force numbering 10,000 troops. In Azim, it is more equivalent to a general.  
> * _gonji_ \- refers to a princess or noble lady. Used very similarly in Azim.  
> * _deel_ \- A style of traditional Mongolian clothing, very similar to other Eastern styles. Sumire’s deel in particular is based on [this one!](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71eK%2B%2BgjwCL._SL1500_.jpg)


	4. Intention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! ffvii remake & uh a certain someone sort of took over my life for a bit there. i'm planning to get a better outline done for this fic so i can try to be more consistent. thank you for being patient~!
> 
> this is a little shorter because the part i was going to include at the end would have been just a bit too long, so i moved it to next chapter! ^^

It was late afternoon of the next day when they finally crested a hill and Sidurgu called for a halt. Sumire let out a quiet sigh of relief, rubbing at her sore back as he began to give commands to their small retinue. Koda took over a few moments later, moving between the soldiers to relay Sidurgu’s messages. She watched the men and horses shuffle about and then begin their descent down the other side.

“We are nearly there,” Sid told her, gesturing down the path his men had taken. “Welcome to Orl Khal, princess.” Lofting her gaze in the direction he pointed, a startled gasp stumbled from her lips.

In the shallow valley below them, some few malms away, stood a fortress. Modest in size surely compared to what she was used to, but no less impressive, like the one in Reunion. Sid’s banner fluttered in several places along the walls, as it stood sentry over the plain.

Nestled quietly into the shadow of the noyon’s land was a small village. Harder to make out from this distance, it was certainly nowhere near as large as Reunion, but seemed to be in fine condition all the same. She remembered belatedly to click her jaw shut as Sid chuckled.

“The land you see before is Onsal Hakair, which Magnai entrusted to me when I was given my role as tumetu-jin noyan. The village is Mol Iloh, home to the Mol tribe.” Seeing the look she gave him, he grimaced. “They have been put in my care just as I was placed in theirs when my father passed. The Orl tribe, as it stands, is only myself.”

“I… had no idea.” The light wind rustled her hair and the banners as she contemplated this sad fact. No wonder he had asked Magnai to give him a Doman girl - he hardly had other options. 

“You would not have. Until this week you barely even knew our story.” Sid shook his head. “Come, it’s been a hard journey and I tire of speaking to you from horseback.” With a grunt he spurred his own steed down the hill, leaving Sumire racing her own to follow.

The keep was just as impressive up close as it had been from the hill, and Sumire found herself relieved to be behind its gates. Though she still held the sorrow of being pulled from her home, at least she would be able to stay put for a time. There was something oddly comforting about being once more kept behind stone walls, as if she could close her eyes to picture home rather than this foreign hell.

Koda and the other soldiers were unloading their supplies, assisted by a small number of bustling staff about the yard beyond the gates. Once she had slid from her horse and watched him bow gratefully to the stablehand who appeared, Sidurgu did the same to the other servants standing near them. All were quick to show their own respect, but it seemed less out of required etiquette and more a genuine exchange.

“Do you treat all your servants like that?” She asked. His strange teal eyes regarded her curiously.

“Of course. It may not be customary but I am still a new lord to them. I would be unwise not to do all I can to earn their respect.” 

“Noyon!” A light chipper voice called out and both turned to see a slim woman with cherry blossom hair hurrying toward them. She bowed deeply, giving Sumire a quick smile before she looked to Sid. “You sent for me?”

“Indeed.” Gesturing to the woman, he looked at Sumire. “This is Cirina. I’ve asked her to help you get settled and attend to you.”

“I am most pleased to meet you, gojin.” Cirina bowed deeply again, and recalling Sid's words, Sumire offered her a small bow as well.

“And I you, Cirina. Lady Oshiga is fine, though.” A brief look of confusion passed over the maid’s face but then she was smiling again, and Sumire wondered if she had imagined it.

“Koda should have moved your things to your chambers by now. Shall we go unpack? I would do it myself but I don’t know how you would prefer to arrange it.” 

Sumire glanced at Sidurgu, who nodded. “Go with her little bird. I shall see you at our next meal.” And she let her new handmaiden whisk her inside.

* * *

She had thought the keep at Reunion sparse, but Orl Khan was practically barren by comparison. Though considering how recently Sidurgu said the land and fortress had been given to him, Sumire supposed it made sense. Not a lot of spare time to decorate when you were commanding armies in a years-long war.

Cirina led her to a suite of chambers in the east wing. “Near Orl noyon’s as rooms well,” the maid informed her with a surprisingly shrewd grin. Sumire blushed delicately and ignored her.

The suite was nothing compared to the royal amenities of home, but Sumire found it suitable. Bedchamber, study, sitting room, and appropriate furnishings. It was the latter that surprised her the most, considering how unexpected her arrival must have been. Everything was decorated in the same jewel and earth tones, but represented now in silks and other rich fabrics. There was no denying it was luxurious.

“My lady?” She looked over to see Cirina standing near an armoire, Sumire’s baskets waiting next to her. “Is there a way you would like me to organize your things?”

“Not particularly. Color order, perhaps? That might be easiest.” Cirina nodded and opened one basket, beginning to pull out and sort through the items within. Feeling definitively useless, Sumire sat down on the bed. Oh, she would have no issue sleeping on this later. “Have you worked for Sidurgu long, Cirina?”

The shorter girl shook her head. “Only a handful of summers now, my lady. There has not been a great need for maids with the noyon off to war for so long. But my grandmother has become too weak in her age to do the work required, so I have taken her place.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Cirina shrugged. “She’s the only family I have left. What kind of granddaughter would I be if I let her work herself to death?” 

“What about your parents?” As soon as the question escaped, Sumire winced. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s alright.” Hanging another deel, Cirina smiled sadly. “The Mol people are often the most desperate to prove themselves. We are a tribe of people with no other, those rejected by or forced from their clans by death and tradition alike. So it is probably not surprising that my father wished to do the same. He fought in Orl _noyon’s_ _tümen,_ and was always a loyal soldier. At one point he was even promoted to _Jagutu-iin Darga_.

“Unfortunately, he had always believed that his place was on the battlefield with his men. Most times, he was lucky enough to make it out. One time he was not so lucky.”

“And your mother?” Sumire prodded gently, eyeing the shawl Cirina had pulled from the basket.

“After we received the word that my father had passed, my mother was inconsolable. One day, I woke up and she was gone. She never came back, and my grandmother took over raising me the last few years.”

“I’m sorry, Cirina.” And she was. The day her mother passed was still fresh even after the years that had since gone by. While it was not of the same magnitude as losing both parents, she could understand at least some of the other girl’s pain.

“I am just grateful the war is ending,” Cirina shrugged and snapped the basket closed. The armoire was now organized with a small rainbow of assorted fabrics, and the few accessories Sumire had brought lay on the nearby vanity as well. Seeming satisfied, the maid turned back to her mistress. “Now, would you like a bath before dinner?”

* * *

Sidurgu paced the dining hall of Orl Khan as if he were contemplating battle strategy rather than an imminent meal. It had been some time now since he’d engaged in such a formal affair, let alone with other people. The last had been the very negotiations that gave him his new guest for the evening. And it was the prospect of facing her now, in his home without the contexts of travel or war, that gave him such a feeling of unease.

“It’s just dinner, sir,” Koda called from his place by the door, and Sid shot him a look. It had been Magnai’s idea to bring the boy back with them from Reunion, but his easy-flowing sass was starting to make him regret it.

“I have to explain myself to her, Koda. It is not ‘just’ dinner,” the warlord snapped. The soldier seemed unbothered by his temper, shrugging.

“Then be forthcoming. Better to be honest and get it over with.”

“Hmph.”

Just as he was considering having the cooks bring Sumire her meal and canceling this circus, the doors opened and there she stood. Though her beauty had been only muted by their travel and need for simplicity, he was struck by it again now as he had been in the Doman war room. He swallowed nervously and hoped she didn’t notice.

If she did, she said nothing, only bowing slightly before she followed Cirina to the seating the staff had laid for her, at his right. When she was seated, Sidurgu did the same and watched the maid scurry off. 

He stared into the soup that was placed before him without speaking. He knew, of course, that he needed to say  _ something  _ but his mind which had been so overfull before her arrival was now traitorously blank. Luckily, such etiquette had yet to flee the princess. She took a demure sip of the broth and then spoke.

“I must say, I was rather surprised by my accommodations.” He looked up as she stirred idly at the dish. “I didn’t think you’d have anything prepared so quickly.”

“I sent word of your arrival as soon as the… meeting was done,” he replied carefully. “I couldn’t very well expect you to stay in a barren room.”

“Frankly I thought I would be expected to put up in yours.” This time when he looked up, he found hard hazel regarding him. She presented him a challenge, he realized, a test. His answer would determine her perception of his intentions. Sidurgu set his spoon down and sighed.

“That was just once. Unless you so choose, you may never have to set foot in my rooms at all.” The surprised look that crossed her face was amusing but brief, replaced in a flash with the polite mask he had become familiar with.

“That’s very chivalrous of you, considering how you won me.” So it truly was just a mask then, Sidurgu noted with amusement. She was certainly making no secret of her feelings on the matter any longer. Perhaps she had only done so toward some other end of her own, but he found himself unconcerned with the reason. At least she was being forthwith about it.

“The circumstances of our meeting were unusual,” he agreed, ignoring the arch of her brow at the understatement. “But though you are in my care now, I do not consider myself to have won you.”

He paused and looked at her across the table.

“Not yet.”

Sumire’s cheeks brightened somewhat. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well…” Sidurgu pushed his food away from him and regarded her seriously. “Precisely what I said. When I asked Magnai and your father for you in that negotiation, I was not bartering to own you. I was seeking the best opportunity to court you.”

Several emotions passed across her face in quick succession: surprise, confusion, anger, embarrassment. It seemed to settle on a mixture of the last two as she glared at him. Rather than explain further, he waited for her to speak instead.

“What… Why would you do that?” Sumire had settled on anger. It creased her face and darkened her voice as she shoved her chair back to turn on him. “We were negotiating for countless lives, on both sides, and you used that to have a shot at wooing me?”

When Sidurgu had walked into that room in the Doman palace, he had noticed first her beauty, and then the spark of dark emotion that lurked in her eyes. She had done well to conceal it in the face of the enemy, but now those flames roiled just beneath her skin, threatening to scorch him with their ferocity. And while her natural features were stunning, it was this he found even more alluring. The slight smile that pulled at his lips did not help, however, and only fueled the anger emanating from her.

“How else would you propose an enemy general get to know a princess who would never otherwise speak with him?” He was being too glib in the face of her rage, he knew, but he was not going to disguise his intention. 

“I would propose he choose to court literally any other woman! Perhaps, I don’t know, someone from his own country, even?” Etiquette was out the window now, Sumire’s tone scathing as she shouted at him. The servant who had stepped into the room with their next course seemed to read the tension and wisely turned on his heel and left. Sidurgu leaned back, arms crossing.

“And if no other woman had intrigued him like she did?” Before her tirade could begin in full he shook his head. “It was not the most ideal method or circumstance, I know. But I see no point in arguing that if we both agree.”

She stood there, standing at him with ire woven into every inch of her, but finally sighed and sat back down. “Fine.”

“I expect you know that as it stands, you cannot return to Doma.” Sumire said nothing so he continued. “I can ensure that while you are in Azim, you will want for nothing and you will be under my protection at all times. I ask that to that end you take a guard with you if you choose to wander, and at least let me know if you are leaving. Otherwise, you have free reign. We need not even eat meals together if you wish.”

Silence greeted him, and he wondered if perhaps she would take this invitation to distance herself as much as possible. If she did it would certainly make this whole endeavor even more frustrating, but he had promised her freedom, and he would not go back on his word. But rather than storm off and pack immediately like he guessed, Sumire regarded him with open curiosity.

“You would really give me the power to do that? Just come and go as I please?” 

He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? Would you rather I kept you locked up in this keep and tried to control your every movement?”

“Of course not!”

“Then you retain your freedom,” he said simply, waving to the servant hovering by the door, who disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later with their main course. As the dishes were placed he continued, “I hope you will find this difference between Azim and Doma to be the most welcome one, princess.”

“Sumire.” She said it so quietly, eyes on her dish, long minutes after his words had faded from the air. Sidurgu almost thought he missed it, but she confirmed for him when she repeated more firmly, “My name is Sumire. Not ‘princess.’”

Sidurgu smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more new terms we used this chapter!
> 
> *tümen - A force numbering 10,000 troops. (referenced by Sid's title last chapter) Cirina's father was one of these 10,000 under Sidurgu's command.  
> *Jagutu-iin Darga - Another rank of commanding officer, overseeing 100 troops. This would be almost the equivalent of a major or captain, and is a very honorable rank in Azim.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always for reading! Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, or you can find me on Twitter @saltedearthsch!


End file.
